


All Of My People

by CaptainnAustralia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Inspired by Music, M/M, Magic Mike - Freeform, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainnAustralia/pseuds/CaptainnAustralia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the kind of situation Derek hated because it was beginning to happen way too often. He didn’t know why they were here. All he knew was that Jackson had sent out a 911; something that could and should be ignored in most cases, but Danny’s urgent 911 fuck get here URGENT HURRY THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW is what made them bundle into the car and speed their way down back streets.</p>
<p>They were in Jungle. On a Thursday. Which is the night when they had male strippers.</p>
<p>Apparently Magic Mike struck a chord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Of My People

**Author's Note:**

> Please listen to 'My People' by The Presents for full effect. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1ufW2INWmM

This was the kind of situation Derek hated because it was beginning to happen _way too often_. He didn’t know _why_ they were here. All he knew was that Jackson had sent out a 911; something that could and should be ignored in most cases, but Danny’s urgent _911 fuck get here URGENT HURRY THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW_ is what made them bundle into the car and speed their way down back streets.

Danny, at least, was the reasonable one.

“Find them,” Derek muttered, the order heard easily by his Beta’s as they threaded their way through the crowd obediently. The music was thumping irritatingly and he had to resist the urge to slam his hands over his ears and wander around like that. The lights were strobing in a way that made it difficult to see, bright and flaring, his nose assaulted by _so. many. scents._ His senses were screwed to hell. His Betas must be in agony.

Because they were in Jungle. On a Thursday. Which is the night when they had male strippers.

Apparently Magic Mike struck a chord.

He squinted around, trying to avoid being groped by the persistent crowd as they jostled around the stage, scanning attentively, when the whole room went blessedly dark and the music stopped. The cheering and voices died down with it, until the club was eerily quiet for so many occupants. It made the hair on the back of Derek’s neck stand, going from ‘cautiously alert’ to ‘full scale invasion alert’ in seconds.

Then, just as quickly as it had stopped, the music began again; heavy, heavy base with what sounded like…. Snarling? He couldn’t identify the noise but it didn’t sound good. Clear, white light flickered over the stage until the lyrics started.

“ _I’m here with all of my people,”_

Once he realized that the dramatic pause in sound and lights was part of the next act, Derek found his attention fixed on the stage, captivated like all the others in the club. With each line of the song a new member of the performance was appearing on stage, a line of four men covered in red, brown, orange and black body paint and sweat that glistened in the strobe and secured in black boxer briefs. Each of them was wearing a mask of dark colour, small and flattering against their faces, and coloured eyes shone out at them, bright yellow in a way that reminded Derek a little too much of his Betas to be completely comfortable with. They appeared with jerky, wild movements, snarling at the crowd before them like they really were animals.

Then.

Then it happened, and Derek felt himself moving, trying to navigate the crowd and get to the stage which had just lit up completely, and intervene because this was _not happening._

Only STILES could do this.

“ _Tall and tan and young and lovely,”_

Stiles was up there. On the stage. In his black jeans and red hoodie, looking lost and slightly terrified as he was shoved onto the stage from behind the back curtain and the four men converged on him, pulling and shoving and Stiles was pushing them away weakly as he looked just about ready to faint.

They looked like they were going to eat him.

Because of course Stiles had managed to get himself lost in a gay stripper club and somehow end up the sacrificial victim on the stage to angry, animalistic strippers.

“ _And you’ll find out tonight oh it’s a world of extremes,”_

There went Stiles hoodie, ripped clean from his body and revealing his pale chest to the whole club, who screamed and shouted and hollered for it. Derek snarled but he couldn’t get any closer, the crowd was holding him back, he had to get up there and rescue Stiles from this.

Stiles still had that stilted, vaguely terrified look on his face as he was shoved out onto the little runaway portion of the stage and Derek was staring at it, sure his own face was reflecting the same emotion.

“ _But that’s not the only chance you’ll get, yeah you’ll see,”_

When Stiles reached the end of the runway the music picked up, changing into the chorus and his face changed completely, breaking out into a sharp grin. All five – Stiles and the animal strippers – were suddenly in sync, moving in mimic with each other in a way that could only come with practice.

Derek stared.

Open mouthed, frozen in spot, wide-eyed staring.

Bare-chested and a little sweaty from the earlier ‘fight’, Stiles shone in the burning lights of the stage, smoothly sliding from side to side, graceful in a way that he never was in his general everyday life. Twisting, spinning, flexing – Derek had never seen Stiles move like that, and now he was seeing it for the first time with Stiles half-naked, muscles shifting underneath his skin, rippling with movement.

Stiles commanded the stage, demanded the adoring attention of the crowd who gladly gave it, brown eyes smouldering with the kind of power that came only from the cheer of an audience.

He didn’t look scared anymore. He looked like a predator. 

The chorus ended and the second verse started, prompting the four other dances (who, let’s be honest, Derek had completely forgotten about) to surge forward again and wrap themselves around Stiles, pulling him back into ‘battle’.

Only this time instead of Stiles looking like he was losing an uncontrolled fight, he seemed to hold his own, with fake punches, swings and jumps that sent the men flying away before pushing back.

“ _You’ve gone a way to get me out from this place,”_

One of the men had shoved him in the centre of Stiles chest and he had fallen backwards – smoothly, and without a flail which told Derek the move was planned and practiced – the other man just managing to catch Stiles belt as he went down, leaving him arching obscenely over the edge of the stage, held up by the belt at his waist, swing over eager grabbing hands before he was yanked back up onto the stage into just as eager hands.

Derek watched as the belt was pulled off and the button of the jeans flicked open – they hugged Stiles so tightly that they didn’t fall, but they hung lower on his hips in a way that made Derek’s mouth water.

The chorus was played through again – Stiles had no problem dancing his part with the looser pants, even though the whirls of his hips and the glide of his feet as he slid his legs open and closed in a crouch made them hitch lower and lower.

When the chorus ended the whole stage went dark again, but the music still rung out, eerie and pitched. It was too dark for even Derek to see what was happening, his vision still affected from the earlier flashes of brightness.

Then the bass rang out again, accompanied by the strobe lights and the disjointed scene of the four men converging on Stiles once more, dragging him down to the stage floor, twisting and writhing over him was delivered in the catches of strobe lighting that fell upon them.

“ _I’m here with all of my people,”_

The spotlight appeared revealing one of the men on his spot from the opening of the performance,

“ _Locked up with all of my people,”_

The second man appeared on the line, with a second spotlight,

_“I’m here with all of my people,”_

The third,

_“Shot down with all of my people,”_

The forth,

_“And it feels so, and it feels so good,”_

The lights on the stage flared up again, bathing everything in an easy light, and providing the crowd with a clear sight of Stiles lying flat on his back, his arms spread out across the stage beside him, his feet planted flat on the glossy wood; he had been stripped down to his own black boxer briefs, slick curls of body paint running up his chest, sides and _mother of god_ his thighs. With each beat of the base his clenched fist slammed against the stage and his hips thrust into the air, making his muscles strain and heat curl in Derek’s stomach.

_“And it feels so, and it feels so good,”_

Stiles skin was shining with sweat, the cool liquid pooling in the curve of his hip bones, his collar bone, the little line down the middle of his honest to god abs how had Derek never noticed those before; Stiles mouth was just a little bit open, hanging just the slightest amount ajar like he couldn’t close it if he tried, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips between beats, but the top half of his face was obscured.

“ _And it feels so-o-o-o-o-o!”_

The four men jerked forward, throwing Stiles up onto his feet and Derek could see it clearly now – the mask that had been wrapped onto Stiles head. It wasn’t like the others – their masks wrapped against them neatly, while Stiles was neatly stylized and unique in a way that theirs wasn’t, and distinctly shaped like a wolf. Stiles eyes snapped open – Jesus Christ he’d had them _closed_ while he was thrusting the air like that – revealing bright, unmistakably red contacts that shone out at the crowd, who went wild at the sight.

This time the synchronized movements weren’t led by Stiles but seemingly around him, the other men pushing against him and he was smiling, grinning in a way that wasn’t shy or nervous but rather distinctly predacious laving individual attention upon each man as he sort it, running fingers through hair, caressing down arms and sides.

“ _I’m here with all of my people,_ ”

The song drew to a close like that – the chorus running through one more time, with Stiles standing in the centre of the stage with two of the men kneeling in front of him, on with an arm wrapped around his thigh, the other two plastered to his back and sides, all four seemingly demanding attention as the song finished almost abruptly and they froze in place for the applause, all of them breathing heavily. The crowd was making more noise than Derek thought was humanly possible and his ears actually ached with it, tossing money onto the stage with abandon.

Then the spell was broken, the song switching over onto something techno like and the lighting resumed to its normal flickering-like-a-demon-spirit nature, and the men on stage broke apart with a light laugh. Stiles waved to the still cheering crowd – _now_ he looked shy and a little embarrassed – as the boys swept up the money that was still being thrown to them and made their way back stage.

“That,” Isaac breathed from Derek’s side – he most certainly didn’t startle, but he was surprised that his Beta had managed to sneak up on him so easily – “was amazing.”

Derek grunted in response.

It had been amazing – aside the fact that it was a _stripping_ performance, the choreography had been exceedingly advanced and suited the music perfectly. Plus it had actually told a story, the tale of Little Red (oh boy) coming out on top (oh _boy_ ) of the “big bad wolves” who tried to take him out.

The whole thing _reeked_ of Stiles doing.

“Best 911 ever,” Erica purred as she slid up next to Isaac.

“I’m blind,” Scott muttered and Isaac cooed, patting his hair in a mocking way, “I just saw way too much, I’m blinded forever.”

“That was hot,” Isaac grinned. Scott looked disgusted by his boyfriend.

“That’s Stiles you’re talking about!”

“I know. That changes nothing.”

“Did you guys make it for the whole thing? I was worried you wouldn’t get here on time,” Danny said as Jackson helped him fight through the crowd to where their group was gathering, cutting off Scott’s no doubt horrified reply.

“Oh no. We saw the _whole_ thing.”

Danny looked exceedingly proud of himself.

“Good.”

“I’m so glad he went with the black jeans,” Lydia sniffed and holy hell when had _she_ gotten here, “they’re so much better than the navy ones he was considering.”

“Wait,” Derek said, sounding more startled than he should have, “you _knew?_ You _knew_ he was doing this?”

Lydia gave him a look so scathing that he almost considered apologising for his tone. Almost.

“Of course,” she snapped, “he needed guidance. Danny and I offered that.”

“I didn’t know,” Scott moaned, hiding his head in Isaac’s shoulder because he was a child like that.

“I knew,” Boyd offered from beside Erica. The blonde smacked his shoulder while Derek raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Erica whined.

“I caught him practicing. He swore me to secrecy,” Boyd shrugged like it was no big deal.

“You should have told _me_ ,” Derek growled.

And woah that was sentence wasn’t meant to earn him the focus of the entire pack, but holy hell it did.

“What? If Stiles is in enough financial trouble to consider _stripping_ ,”

There was a sharp melody of laughter from Alison as she slipped into the group, exchanging a glance with Lydia, who grinned right back.

“Where did you get financial troubles from?”

“The other day, he was talking about needing a job…” Derek muttered, trying not to sound too bewildered.

The girls broke into giggles and didn’t justify him with a response, instead letting Danny speak up.

“He wasn’t doing this for the money Derek,” Danny offered in his placating tone, “he just wanted too. He didn’t know you guys would be here tonight – he thought it would just be Alison, Lydia and I, but I figured the pack would want to see something he’d put so much effort into.”

“Come on Scott,” Isaac said, tugging on the still moaning boy’s arm, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

The pack seemed to take this as a universal symbol to head to the bar – Derek was a terrible Alpha, he should have taking those fake ID’s away the very _moment_ he had seen them – leaving Derek to stand awkwardly on the floor still in a mild case of shock. Danny tapped his shoulder to get his attention, holding a lanyard out to him. Derek took it with a questioning look.

“To get backstage,” Danny said with a knowing smile, “he’s expecting me but someone’s gotta watch Jackson.”

Derek nodded and Danny vanished into the crowd like the beautiful backstage pass giving angel that he was and Derek started towards this big door near the back of the club. With a flash of the pass he was past, breathing a sigh of relief at the mercifully quieted hallway and the dim lights. He followed Stiles scent to a door marked ‘Stilinski’ and pushed it open without knocking.

Stiles was humming, rubbing alcohol wipes over his skin to pull the paint off, and he glanced up with a grin when he heard the door open, already talking.

“Thank god, can you wipe down my baaaa -- oh god,” Stiles eyes went as wide as silver dollars, colour draining from his face before flaring back up again with a deep red, clutching the wipe to his chest like it could offer him some defence. He was still in the black boxer briefs and _nothing else_ , and Derek took an appreciate moment to take it all in, from the sweat spiked hair – he’d been growing it out and it was deliciously slick in a way that screamed of inappropriate acts and made Derek want to yank it – to his bare toes that wriggled nervously on the floorboards.

“I can explain,” Stiles started after a long moment of awkward silence, snapping Derek’s eyes back up to his face, where it was blushed and his bottom lip had teeth marks from trying to keep quiet.

_Fuck_ , this kid would be the death of him.

“You were stripping,”

“Well, technically, yes, but, I mean, it’s more like creative dancing if you think about it and I mean, I didn’t mean to make the whole werewolf thing happen it just suited the song, and oh god I’m going to die,” Stiles squeaked as Derek backed him against the wall. Stiles instinctively flinched away a little when Derek reached out tugging at the cloth in Stiles grip.

“Turn around,” Derek breathed into Stiles ear and the boy whimpered, scrambling to comply; Derek didn’t miss the spike of arousal in Stiles scent and he pressed his nose to the boy’s shoulder blade, breathing deep and drinking it in – sweat, lust and Stiles. It made his head spin.

“Wadda you…” Stiles started, but Derek nipped, _nipped with his teeth sweet mother of god_ , Stiles shoulder blade in reprimand and the boy let out a breathy sound so close to a moan that Derek paused for a second before bringing the cloth up and beginning to wipe at Stiles back carefully.

“You said you needed help,” Derek murmured, oddly soft, his chest pressed against Stiles side, one hand resting on his hip.

“Th-that I did,” Stiles stammered, swallowing heavily. His cheek was pressed against the wall, facing towards Derek, and he watched Derek while Derek watched his throat work as he swallowed, the way his tongue came out to wet his lips when Derek’s eyes fell on them.

Derek pulled his eyes away as Stiles own darkened, focusing his attention on the well-toned muscles of Stiles back. Seriously – he knew the kid had to have some kind of form, what with all the running for his life and fighting for the pack that he did, but this was… unexpected. He wiped at the paint and sweat, and at the scents of the other dancers, the ones who had laid their hands all over Stiles body, replacing it with an alcoholic twinge. Derek stroked a hand absentmindedly down Stiles side while he worked, and the younger boy’s breathing picked up pace.

Tossing the cloth aside when he was done, Derek replaced it with his hand, smoothing his palm across the pale skin between Stiles shoulder blades and dragging it down his spine. Stiles whined, arching into the touch like he was starved for it.

The hand that had settled on Stiles hip curled around to his stomach, stroking over the muscle there while it flexed and allowing Derek to press his chest flush against Stiles back, pressing his lips to Stiles ear.

“You looked beautiful up there,” he offered, as his thumb stroked against the curve of Stiles hip bone, his other hand resting lightly on Stiles thigh, “on the stage. I could barely see the other dancers.”

Stiles drew in a shaky breath – this was approaching bad touch territory. Oh who was he kidding, they’d flown so far past bad touch that you wouldn’t be able to find it with a GPS and a telescope. But Stiles leaned into each press of Derek’s hands, back into his chest, despite himself.

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice slightly deeper than normal, “I try.”

“I can tell that. How long do you practice?”

Derek’s hands continued to slide over Stiles skin but his words were casual, almost flippant. Stiles wanted to sob when Derek’s fingers slid over a nipple teasingly.

“Hours. Hours a day,” Stiles admits – he’s nothing if not a perfectionist on tasks he loves – subtly sliding his legs slightly further apart, giving Derek more room to explore. Derek hummed his approval, his hands moving to run up the shapely thighs.

“You should let me watch some time,” he smirked, his hands just skirting the now obvious bulge in Stiles hide-nothing boxer briefs. Stiles bit back a noise and took a few breaths before he replied.

“You’d be bored. It’s nothing like the show. I have to practice the same thing over, and over,” he finished with a gasp as Derek’s hands were less subtle with their skirting and a little more ‘directly but frustratingly light’ right over his crotch.

“I don’t think I’d be bored at all,” Derek murmured, his lips moving feather light over the skin of Stiles shoulder and neck, never quite touching down, “but if you don’t want me to be there…”

“No, no, you can come,” Stiles hurriedly insisted. Derek smirked into Stiles skin.

“Damn straight I can,” Derek said and Stiles had to laugh shakily at the implication. The laugh became a moan as Derek’s tongue licked, actually licked, from the edge of his collarbone up to just behind his ear.

Derek flipped him back around, Stiles back snapping against the wall in a move so fast it had the younger boy blinking in surprise, which was quickly forgotten as Derek crowded up against him and went to _town_ on his neck, seemingly determined to leave the biggest hickey known to man. Stiles sprang into action; one grabbing at Derek’s hip to pull him closer, the other curling into the hair at the back of his neck, holding him in place, unabashedly moaning in encouragement.

“Those other men,” Derek rasped into Stiles ear like he’d forgotten to breathe, “they put their hands all over you, they want you, but they can’t have you can they?”

Stiles shook his head before letting out a croaky “No,”

Derek smiled at him and it was like Stiles smile on the stage; predatory.

“Good.”

He kissed Stiles then, fast and hard, licking into the younger boy’s mouth and enjoying the feel of him all but melting under Derek’s touch.

They kissed for a while actually, getting to know the feel of each other’s lips, which angles worked best, that hard, fast and demanding wasn’t always as satisfying as slow, catching and a little hesitant. Derek chuckled when he pulled away and Stiles followed before thunking his head back against the wall, glaring accusingly at the older man, his lips deliciously bite swollen and glistening.

“Tease,” Stiles groaned out, prompting Derek to duck closer again but to pull away, just a little out of reach, every time Stiles darted forward to kiss him again. He openly laughed when Stiles made a frustrated noise, still laughing lightly when the younger boy twisted a handful of his hair and _dragged_ them back together.

“Eager,” Derek murmured when Stiles loosened his grip enough to pull back.

“Yeah well, you’re hot and I’m horny,” Stiles retorted, but he was flushed, and his eyes danced prettily, letting Derek know he wasn’t being completely serious. Stiles heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears; that double-paced rabbits beat that was already always a skip too fast racing in his head and under his grip. Derek grinned in response and dropped a kiss on Stiles collarbone, then one a little lower, and again and again, until he was halfway down Stiles chest and the boy was gasping and shaking because he _knew_ where this was going and –

“Hey, Stiles, what’s taking so lo—OH GOD MY EYES!”

Derek snapped upward again and Stiles unstruck himself from the wall to jump two feet in the air. This wasn’t the first time Derek had thought about killing his Beta, but it was the first time he was actually, seriously considering it.

“Get out Scott!” Stiles squeaked adorably – oh hell no he did not just call Stiles _adorable_ in his head – while the other boy stumbled into the room with a hand over his face.

“Get away from my friend you… person!” Scott declared, waving the arm that wasn’t covering his eyes out in front of him as if to banish Derek from Stiles side. Derek grabbed Stiles around the middle, pulling him back against his chest, making the younger boy squeak.

“Get out Scott,” he growled.

“No. This isn’t right, I won’t let you take advantage of Stiles like this,” Scott shot back and wow he was really going to kill the kid, shame, they’d started to get along after he began dating Isaac.

“I’m fine Scott, I’d be better if you’d leave, please!” Stiles begged.

“Scott, did you find hi—oh uh,” Isaac paused as he rounded the corner, taking in Derek’s possessive arm around Stiles waist and Scott’s hand over his eyes, “I guess so.”

Derek sighed and dropped his head to Stiles shoulder, muttering about simply killing the whole pack and getting it over and done with before pressing his lips to Stiles cheek.

“We’re finishing this later,” he growled at the younger boy, frustrated rather than angry. Stiles twisted around, catching Derek’s lips and making Scott – who had uncovered his eyes when Isaac arrived – yelp and yell at them.

“We most certainly will.”

Derek pulled himself away reluctantly and backed out of the room, keeping his eyes on Stiles for as long as possible as he wandered out, a little grin on his face the entire time. Stiles winked as he rounded the corner, and Derek could hear Scott yelling the whole way down the hallway.


End file.
